


All the Sinners Saints

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: For happy_1225 who donated to the Haiti relief effort for demon!Tommy and angel!Adam.  Unbeta'd. Title from Sympathy for the Devil</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All the Sinners Saints

**Author's Note:**

> None of these people belong to me

_Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste ..._

"Must you," Lucifer says, irritably, flicking a finger and filling the hotel room with silence again.

"I hate that song. And if you're _bored_ Tommy, I can think of something for you to do."

I flip him the bird before rolling over on the bed, straddling him. "Really," I say, amused, as I flick the radio back on, letting Mick Jagger wail about having sympathy for the devil.

He'd change his tune if he ever _met_ the devil ...

Wait. "Tommy?" I say, even as Lucifer's hands – burning like lava on my skin – slide my shirt off, his narrow, dark face intent as the music shuts off again. "That's the name you came up with? Tommy?"

"What's wrong with Tommy? Perfectly innocent, innocuous name."

He twitches – you'd never see it, but I can feel it – and he's on top of me, pinning me to the bed.

"Pretty little Tommy Joe, just looking for a gig," he mocks, idly tearing at my clothes – again – and pushing in, hard and hot. _Fuck_.

"Fuuuuck ..." I'm groaning now and I don't fucking _care_.

He wraps his hand around my cock, and it fucking – it fucking _burns_ and it's oh, so good, and it reminds me of home.

"Tommy," I say after, breathless. Fuck, this being human thing takes a bit of getting used to. "Okay. I guess I can make that work."

"You guess? You had _better _ make it work. I didn't spend all that time creating you for you to _guess_."

"Figure of speech," I mutter, staring at the ceiling. "What did he do to you anyway that you had to go to so much trouble? Making me, I mean," I ask, rolling to my side on the bed.

Lucifer stares at the ceiling, his eyes moving restlessly, like he's looking at something that's not there any more.

"He betrayed me," he says finally, when I'm about to flick the music on again. "He made a promise to me, and he broke that promise. On the final day. The last battle. He said that if I fell - _if I was made to fall_ he would fall with me."

"And he didn't," I say softly, reaching out to touch, because I don't know when I'll be this close to hell – to home again.

"No. He didn't. He struck some kind of ... bargain with my brothers, and he turned his back on me."

"But ... what's he doing here, then? If he didn't ... fall ... how did he end up on earth? Why would he _want_ to end up on earth?"

"I don't know, Tommy. Part of the bargain he struck? I don't know. Yet. That's why I made you. You, pretty, pretty Tommy, are going to get Adam back for me. Bring him back _to _ me."

"How, when he's going to throw me out on my ass as soon as he sees me?"

Lucifer rolls on to his side, lightning-fast, a dark smile twisting his features. "That's the beauty of it. Adam doesn't _remember_. He has no idea who – or what he is. I can only speculate that it was part of the bargain with the archangels – that he be allowed to start over," and the bitterness in his voice would – has – poisoned whole civilisations.

"Then, why can't you do it? If he has no memory of Before," I ask, letting my hand slide over his skin, and I want to go _home_.

"Because ... because." Lucifer reaches out and pulls me in, and we're tangled again, searing-hot.

"He'll know me as soon as he sees me. He'll remember. I want ... I want him to fall first. To – to fall again," he murmurs, his breath burning my neck, but all I do is hold on.

"You want him to fall for me," I say, a statement; not a question.

"I want him to fall for you," Lucifer says, digging his hands into my hips, nearly crushing the bones under his fingers, and it feels so _good_. "And I want you to bring him to me."

Easier said ... I think when I turn up to the band auditions. I play bass, apparently. And guitar and keyboard, who knew? Tommy Joe Ratliff (seriously Lucifer? _Tommy Joe?_) has this whole life that's all mine now.

The devil is nothing if not detailed.

Adam keeps staring at me, like he's trying to place something familiar, but I just shrug and say maybe I have one of those faces. We hang out; get to know each other.

Well. I get to know Adam, and he gets to know "Tommy Joe." I catch him staring, and sometimes it's _want_ and sometimes it's _who are you_, and always in the distance – like a forest fire at my back, burning, is Lucifer.

Waiting.

But these things can't be _rushed_.

If I were human – at all – I'm sure I'd like Adam a lot. Hell (sorry. Bad pun), I probably could fall for him. But ... I'm not human. Not even _close_.

But ... in the end ... it doesn't take long at all. All it takes? One kiss. One very public kiss, and he _knows_.

His memories flash sudden and strange, and he nearly falls again on the stage, but then the show is over, and we're meant to be moving on, going ... somewhere.

Adam grabs my arm backstage and hauls me into an empty dressing room. He stares at me with the memory of centuries in his eyes suddenly – year after year after year, and I see them all flashing – heaven and the battle; his time on earth - his hands on my face the whole time.

He hisses in pain for a moment as my skin sears into him. I can hurt him now – now that he remembers who and what he is.

His hands feel like ice on my face and I just lean against the wall, not saying anything.

"Wh – where is he?" And ... that's unexpected.

"_Where is he_? Tell me, demon. Where is Lucifer?"

"you took that well," I mutter, reaching up to pull his hands away from my face, and he steps back suddenly, his blue eyes wide.

"I need to – I need to talk to him. _Where is he?_" Adam's nearly frantic, staring around the room as though he can make the Devil appear just by looking.

"He's -" but I don't get any further.

"I'm here, Adam. Where else would I be?"

Huh. Seems he can.

I watch as Adam closes the distance – he's moving like Lucifer moves – like I can move – faster than human eyes can see, his hands on Lucifer's face.

"It wasn't – it wasn't me. I swear. It – it was the others. They stopped as many of us as they could. _I tried to follow you_. I _tried_. But they wouldn't let me fall!"

Lucifer's hands – almost of their own accord from where I'm standing – slip around Adam's waist.

"Someone's coming," I say idly and Adam turns his head, whip-fast.

"Shit. I have to - _we_ have to go. We're getting on a plane soon. Come to New York. Please!"

If I were human, this is the part I'd be jealous of. Watching them ... _pushing_ at each other, their hands shoving aside clothes, their mouths ... hmmm.

One kiss from me – from "Tommy Joe" and it all comes back.

Well.

I shove myself away from the wall and touch Adam on the arm, interrupting what would normally be a very private reunion.

If we were normal.

"We have to go," I say, curling my fingers around his upper arm.

Adam turns to me, blinking slowly, like he'd forgotten I was there. A dark, familiar smile curves his lips – mobile, full and swollen and he slides a hand through my long fringe. A hand, I notice, that isn't half as cold as it had been earlier.

"So," he says to Lucifer, but not taking his eyes off my face, and his voice is lower; rougher, and it's not just for the singing. "Did you make this one for you, or for me?" And I know that Adam's fall is nearly complete. A fall he's _willing_ to take.

Lucifer laughs then, and I feel the shiver go through Adam's body at the sound. It's like smoke on the wind, but thick and binding and I catch my bottom lip with my teeth.

"Maybe, Adam," Lucifer says, right before he disappears again, "I made him for both of us. I'll see you in New York."

I flick a finger again as we're dragged out by Adam's personal assistant, hurrying us towards the car to take us to the airport, and he smirks as _Pleased to meet you, Hope you guess my name_ starts playing around us. The PA can't hear it – not really – but she'll have it stuck in her head for days now.

"He hates that song, you know," Adam says, before we get in the car.

"I know. But it reminds me of home."

"Home," Adam echoes softly, staring out the window as the night speeds by.


	2. Traps for Troubadours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the same, only ... different? Title once again from Sympathy for the Devil

"You're hot," I say as we board the plane for New York. Adam smirks down at me a little bit, as we take our seats, settling in; doing up seatbelts ... blah blah blah.

He doesn't say anything until we're in the air, when he leans over and says, whispering in my ear, his lips – searing hot now – "I'm _hot_ because I'm falling."

And he sounds fucking delighted. Ignoring the night speeding past outside, I turn in my seat and lay my hand along his bare arm. It's scorching to the touch now and I curl my fingers around it; spreading out my palm to take in as much of it as possible.

"Lucifer's brothers are going to be _pissed_," Adam says cheerfully, sliding his hand over my leg and leaning in close so that I can feel his hot breath on my neck.

I look around the plane – most people are asleep; I can see Monte and LP across the aisle, and Lisa's a couple of seats ahead ... they're all sleeping. I climb over Adam – slowly – and stand in the aisle. "Come on," I say, holding out my hand.

Adam smiles up at me, stretching out in his seat. He raises his eyebrows and says, "Bathroom, really? We could just stay here. I can make sure everyone stays asleep until we get to New York."

"I know that. I want to show you something. Something _else_" I clarify, when his mouth twists up in a smirk. He grumbles a little, but unfolds his long frame from the chair, with a kind of liquid grace that I hadn't really noticed before, and I can feel myself getting hot – hotter – under my skin.

"All right, Tommy. I'm intrigued. Lead on."

The bathroom is a tight fit, and I lean over the counter, staring at the mirror. I half-close my eyes when Adam leans against me; his chest solid and searing against my back. He's hard, pushing against my hip, and he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, staring at me in the mirror.

"So pretty," he murmurs, his teeth scraping over the back of my neck as he undoes the fly and idly starts stroking.

"So ... what were you going to show me?" he asks, his voice still low, his eyes nearly indigo under the harsh bathroom light.

"This." I put my hand against the mirror and our reflections disappear at the same time as Adam slides into me – easy and big. "Oh. _Oh_. So much easier than humans," he says, not looking at the mirror yet. I push back, because, fuck, _yes_ and say, "He made me for this, remember. Look ... look at the mirror."

Adam's hands slide over my back; hot and smooth, touching everywhere and fuck if it doesn't feel good. It feels like _home_, and yeah – he's fallen now. He looks up and stills as he sees the picture that's replaced our reflections in the mirror. He's scorching and large inside me and _still_, which is a kind of delicious torture. I dig one hand into the cool glass, and wrap the other around the base of my cock, just – holding on.

"Is that - "

"Yeah. That's – home." The reflection shows fire and flame; lava pooling and running slowly over rock formations that have been carved into nightmarish sculptures by centuries of fire.

The smells are missing; and the screams, but it seems to be enough, because Adam's moving again and that's fucking _perfect_.

"Home," he says, his voice a quiet, harmonic vibration against my neck. He reaches out and tangles his fingers with mine, pushing my hand harder against the mirror.

Back in our seats in time to land, I stare out the window as the lights of New York appear below us.

"Now that you remember – are you going to keep doing this? The rock star thing?"

Adam leans over to look out the window, sliding his hand under my shirt at the same time.

"Sure. Why not? I'm stuck here for the duration – a human lifetime anyway – might as well make the most of it.

"It'll be _fun_," he says, his breath ghosting along my ear.

"Fun," I echo, as the plane lands.

"Fun for _both_ of us," Adam says.

Hmmm ... stuck here for the next sixty years or whateverthefuck. I'm not so sure about that. Then I catch that look in Adam's eyes – the searing-hot dark-blue look – and what the hell. Why not?

We get to the hotel, and I don't even bother checking my room number. Just follow Adam to his. Lucifer's there, waiting for us – for Adam – but the room is fucking _freezing_.

"Who was it?" Adam asks, even as Lucifer wraps his arms around him.

"Gabriel," he says, idle, already pushing his hands under Adam's shirt. "There was some ... shouting. And I had to fix the room up again. We may have thrown a few things. He might be back ... how did he put it? For you. He might be back for you."

Adam just smiles and kisses Lucifer, lazy and deep, his hands tangled in Lucifer's blue-black hair.

"Let him come. I made my choice."

Lucifer turns his head to look at me, as though he's just remembered I'm there; his coal-black eyes roaming over me and making me feel like I'm standing there naked. Not that I'm _complaining_ about that ...

"So you like your little toy? I see you had some fun on the plane." I suppose I should be offended at being called a toy. But I'm not really built to take offence. I am built to take ... well.

"Hmmm," Adam hums against Lucifer's neck, and I can feel the vibration of it echo around the room.

"He showed me home," he murmurs, his eyes still indigo-dark, but hooded as he tilts his head back, allowing Lucifer access to his neck, and all I can do is stare at the line of it; tracing it with my eyes.

Lucifer turns to look at me again and I _know_ that look. "Mmmhmm ... home ... come here, demon child. Let's play."

_Play_ I think later, lying dazed on the bed in a tangle of limbs and sweat and _heat_ that is as close to home as I'm going to get for a long time.

Adam's lying on his back one side of me; his hand on my thigh, and Lucifer is lying on the other, his head propped up on one arm as he traces patterns into Adam's arm with the tip of his finger. I see tiny flames making pictures in the patterns and I just watch; fascinated.

Adam turns his head, staring at Lucifer intently. "You have to go," he says, and it's not a question.

"I do. Hell won't run itself for long. I'll be back, though."

Adam lets go of my leg, sitting up and reaching across me. "Promise?" he asks, laying a hand on Lucifer's face, stroking his thumb over his sharp cheekbone.

"And what would a promise be worth from the devil?"

That's his last words, before he's gone again, his laughter echoing around the room.

Adam lays back down, and I take his hand, winding our fingers together again.

"Sixty years," I say, my voice raspy. "Pass in no time. And in the meantime ..."

His hand tightens around mine; desert-hot and dry. "We get to be rock stars."

_Pleased to meet you, I hope you guessed my name_.


End file.
